


The Difference Between Dust And Soup (Is You)

by gnarf



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon-Compliant Stalking, Cursed Draco Malfoy, Curses, Eating Disorder Due to Curse, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fairy Tale Ending, Falling In Love, Fluff, Food, H/D Food Fair 2018, Harry Potter Cooks, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hurt/Comfort, Invisibility Cloak (Harry Potter), Loss of Taste, M/M, Magical Theory, Mild Angst, Misunderstandings, Slight Starvation, The Marauder's Map
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-07-13 17:15:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16022375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gnarf/pseuds/gnarf
Summary: When Harry returned for his eighth year at Hogwarts he had high hopes that he'd have a normal and quiet year for once—he had earned it after all!But when he found Malfoy starving and unconscious in the Astronomy Tower one night, it all started over again. He had to figure out what happened to him.After Harry started to cook for Malfoy, and while sharing their secret dinner night after night, he couldn't help but wonder if there was a possibility of them becoming more.





	The Difference Between Dust And Soup (Is You)

**Author's Note:**

> For Prompt #[58](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1E_uQJlIb5C6nLnMg8VrUUnrKtyx16is1FLbyvoxLEik/edit).
> 
> Massive thanks to my lovely betas for helping me finish this fic in time!
> 
> I loved that prompt and I hope you all like what I created for it!
> 
> Warning: In this fic Draco Malfoy has a eating disorder, aka he can't eat, thanks to a curse. If you get triggered by anything relating to eating disorders or lack of nutrition, please be careful or do not read on.

“Mate, you're staring again.”

 

“Am not.”

 

“Yes you are. Look, I know old habits die hard, but I honestly thought we'd get through this year without you staring at Malfoy like he killed your favourite krup.”

 

“Honesty, Ron, I told you, I'm not staring...I'm observing, that's different.”

 

“Is it then? So please, oh Mighty Saviour, Boy Who Lived Twice, Snorer of the Millennium, tell me; what is there to _observe_ about Malfoy eating breakfast?”

 

“First of all, you snore worse, all of Hogwarts knows that, and secondly, he _isn't_.”

 

“What do you mean ‘ _he isn't’_? He's sitting right there, eating breakfast like we all are.”

 

Harry looked at his best friend just to find him frowning. Sighing, he looked back at Malfoy who was still trying to pretend to be eating like he had been doing for days, maybe weeks by the looks of him, before Harry pushed his plate away and stood.

 

“I promised ‘Mione I’d study Potions with her after breakfast, so I’d better be going now before she offs me with one of her glares. Bloody basilisk your girlfriend is, Ron.”

 

Harry was already on his way out by the time Ron managed to swallow his load of scrambled eggs on toast to holler after him, “No more staring! Tell ‘Mione I'll join you later, will you?” Harry gave him a short nod and a grin before he stepped through the door, knowing full well Ron wouldn't join them later. They'd probably find him snoring on one of the sofas in their eighth year quarters later. Harry couldn't blame him, he'd do the same if his grades weren't as bad as they were at the moment.

 

So he made his way to the library where Hermione was already waiting for him; on the positive side, he had no time to brood over Malfoy and his strange habits while Hermione forced him to learn the proper way to chop rat tails.

 

* * *

 

“Mister Potter, is there something on your classmate’s back that’s teaching you more about today's topic than I am? If not, I'd prefer your attention up here with me.”

 

Harry's head snapped up from where he had been staring at Malfoy to look at the Headmistress, a frown on her face.

 

“Sorry!” Harry knew his face was beet-red by now.

 

“Now that we have your attention, could you please demonstrate how to transfigure the letter in front of you to a Howler? I'm sure by now you've written a few words on that piece of paper to show if it works.”

 

Glancing down at his letter he could feel his face get even hotter. There was nothing he could do about it now; he could only hope no one would make a connection between this and his staring.

 

Tapping his wand against the envelope, he murmured, “ _Saevae Litterae_ ,” and closed his eyes, hoping for the best.

 

Harry could hear rustling before everything around him went quiet. He opened his eyes and was faced with a perfect Howler, only seconds from exploding.

 

His own voice flooded the already too quiet classroom.

 

“ **_WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU???_ ** ”

 

Once the ringing in his ears stopped he could hear some nervous laughter from his classmates before McGonagall cleared her throat and looked at him. “Well Mister Potter, I truly hope that letter wasn't directed at me. Good spell work; five points to Gryffindor for your successful attempt without having listened to a single word I said.”

 

Groaning, he hid his face in his hands. He knew Hermione wouldn't let him out of this without a proper lecture about the importance of listening to McGonagall, and by the looks of the Headmistress right now, she knew too.

 

Fucking Malfoy, why was it always him who got Harry in trouble?

 

* * *

 

“I found a pack of his favourite chocolate in the bin! It's totally fine! He ate one piece and threw the rest of it out!”

 

“Who?” Hermione asked, skeptical.

 

“Malfoy of course!”

 

“How do you know that Malfoy's trash chocolate is fine, Harry?”

 

He sat together with Hermione and Ron at the eighth year table, a Muffliato cast around them so nobody could listen in. They were sick of the stories they found in the prophet about them so they had started to use the spell regularly, and Harry was thankful for that at the moment.

 

“I _might_ have checked them for residual magic, and after there was no sign of them being cursed I _might_ have tried one? Or two? Oh don't look at me like that! The bin was clean and empty and the chocolate was perfectly fine and very expensive by the looks of it! There was no need to throw them out just because they weren't to the gits taste, ‘Mione.”

 

“Uh-huh. You know that you're in a castle with plenty of food and that there's no need to pick stuff out of bins, do you?”

 

“I only wanted to know why he threw them out!”

 

“Maybe it was a present from someone who's interested in him, but he isn't interested in them? Ever thought of that?”

 

“Come on ‘Mione, who could possibly be interested in him? He's a git, I’ve never heard him say anything nice—“

 

“Have you ever tried to say something nice to him?”

 

“Wha—? Why should I? How did this conversation go from _‘he's throwing perfectly fine chocolate out’_ to _‘say something nice to him_?’”

 

“It would be a nice change if you two could be civil for once, that's all I'm saying.”

 

He couldn't believe it, Hermione had clearly lost her mind. Surely Ron would help him there. “Ron? Wha—”

 

“Sorry, mate, I'm with ‘Mione here. It really would be a nice change.”

 

Harry glared darkly at his two best friends, how could they not see that Malfoy was up to something? Throwing his favourite chocolate away wasn't normal behaviour—something was amiss, and he would find out what it was.

 

Glancing at Malfoy, he watched him for a minute or two, pushing his scrambled eggs around his plate without really eating them. Yes, he'd find out what it was, even if it took him the whole year to do so.

 

And if his _friends_ wouldn't help him, he'd do it alone.

 

* * *

 

Harry yawned before he turned around and tried to go back to sleep after waking up in the middle of the night, giving up only a few minutes later when he heard the—by now—well known footsteps passing by his door.

 

Malfoy wasn’t sleeping. Again.

 

He seemingly never slept.

 

Every time Harry woke up nowadays he checked the map just to find Malfoy in a random part of the castle. Sometimes he visited the kitchens, but he never stayed long. Mostly, Harry found him in the Astronomy Tower or by the lake when it wasn't raining outside.

 

Harry had long given up telling Ron and Hermione about this. The first time it had happened, he had stayed awake to watch Malfoy on his map before turning up looking like death the next morning.

 

Hermione told him to let it be, Malfoy likely had nightmares just like the rest of them, but if he wasn't seeking any help on his own there wasn’t much they could do for him.

 

Ron, on the other hand, had told him that if he was that bothered he could always sneak out and follow him if that’s what it'd take to make Harry shut up about bloody Malfoy.

 

Yawning again, Harry fumbled for the map under his pillow and unfolded it in his lap, with a tap of his wand he watched, smiling, as the greetings his father and his friends left so many years ago appeared.

 

_Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs,_

_purveyors of aid to magical mischief-makers,_

_are proud to present:_

_THE MARAUDER'S MAP_

 

Harry quickly found the dot he was looking for and watched as Malfoy moved through the castle. A few times he managed to just barely slip out of sight only seconds before he would have gotten caught by someone, and Harry grinned against his will every time it happened. Malfoy stopped at the kitchens but didn't go in this time, instead he wandered further along, where he nearly ran into Slughorn who was on the way to the kitchens himself.

 

After that, he took his usual path to the Astronomy Tower and Harry knew that there wouldn’t be anything interesting to watch anymore as he'd sit there for the rest of the night.

He cleared the map and shoved it back under his pillow. Laying back down, he tried to guess what Malfoy could be up to this time, but nothing made sense to him.

 

* * *

 

Harry woke up to something glowing hot in his hand. He jumped up and pulled his wand, ready to fight whatever it was, but nothing happened. It took him a few seconds to fight down the panic and think of turning on the lights to look for what woke him.

 

The only thing he saw was a piece of the map sticking out from under his pillow where his hand had been buried only seconds before. Carefully he crept nearer and picked it up with two fingers. It still was hot, but the heat dissipated with every second that passed.

 

Inspecting it, he found some black splotches on it that hadn’t been there before.

 

Fumbling for his glasses on the nightstand without looking away from the map, he nearly fell out of bed but managed to stay upright.

 

He found his glasses and pushed them on his face to better look at the splotches.

 

_Messrs Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs,_

_purveyors of aid to magical mischief-makers,_

_want to inform Mister Potter that his attention is very much needed._

_His doe is in danger, and even if he is a Malfoy we're not here to judge._

_Run._

 

Harry watched as the map snapped open and pointed him to the dot labelled _Draco Malfoy_. It wasn't as dark as it used to be, and Harry understood. Jumping up, he pulled on the first pair of shoes he found and sprinted to the Astronomy Tower.

 

* * *

 

“Malfoy? Fucking hell! _Expecto Patronum!_ ”

 

Harry was still out of breath from running up the stairs, and finding Malfoy on the floor—his face gaunt and grey—didn't help at all to slow down his racing pulse.

 

He dropped down next to him to check if he was even alive—by the looks of him alone Harry couldn’t tell. But it couldn't be. They had lived through a war, he couldn’t die here, now.

 

He choked out a gasp when he saw the faint rise and fall of Malfoy's chest. He couldn't stop his shaking hands from touching it, feeling the slow heartbeat underneath them. He was alive—just barely—but he was.

 

Hermione would know what to do now, Harry on the other hand… He could only stay there, hands on Malfoy's chest, heart pounding in his throat, waiting for help to arrive. He hoped his Patronus did what he wanted it to do—wake Madam Pomfrey and guide here here. But he wasn't sure.

 

Minutes ticked by and Malfoy still lay unconscious on the floor. Harry had tried to wake him but he stopped once he noticed that Malfoy's face had lost even more colour.

 

Just as he prepared to send a second Patronus he heard footsteps rushing up the stairs; seconds later the door crashed into the wall behind it and Madam Pomfrey came rushing in, her face deep red.

 

“What happened here, Mister Potter?”

 

“I don't know! I found him like this, he won't react to anything, just loses more colour if I try to wake him. Please, can you help him?”

 

“Move, boy, let me take a look.”

 

Harry jumped out of her way, his eyes never leaving Malfoy's face while Madam Pomfrey cast spell after spell on him.

 

“Good you found him. I think I can help. Go to the Headmistress and tell her I need her in the Hospital Wing.”

 

“What—?”

 

“Now, Mister Potter!”

 

Harry watched in shock as she lifted Malfoy from the floor with a flick of her wand and began to levitate him to the Hospital Wing as fast as she could, leaving Harry behind in the silence that followed.

 

* * *

  


Moving as if in trance through the castle Harry was surprised to find himself in front of the large door to the Headmistress’ office. He hadn't even noticed he had passed the gargoyle until he had knocked a few times.

 

It felt like ages before the door swung open and McGonagall stepped in front of him, closing her dressing gown and tying it shut before looking up.

 

“What in the—Potter? What happened?”

 

“Headmistress, it’s Malfoy—he’s—Madam Pomfrey sent me to get you, she needs your help.”

 

“Follow me Mister Potter, you can tell me what happened on the way.” With that she pushed past him and set a half-sprint-half-jog pace down the stairs, which Harry had trouble keeping up with.

 

“I don't know what happened to him. I found him on the ground and thought he was dead. His face was all—all grey and he wasn’t moving. I sent my Patronus to Madam Pomfrey and stayed with him until she arrived.”

 

“Did you hear him fall in your quarters? Did you hear someone else there?”

 

“Oh…” Harry looked at the floor, how much should he tell her? He hadn't thought of this. “Actually, Headmistress, it wasn't in our quarters. I found him in the Astronomy Tower. But no, no sign of someone else being there.”

 

“Thank Merlin you never listen to rules, strolling around the castle in the middle of the night...I should give you detention for that,” she muttered under her breath.

 

McGonagall was slightly out of breath by now but kept her pace astonishingly well; Harry, on the other hand, felt more tired than he ever had. His brain felt numb and all he could think about was Malfoy lying lifeless on the floor. They weren't too far from the Hospital Wing now.

 

“Anything else I should know?”

 

“No,” Harry said, but then changed his mind. “Yes! He—he hasn’t been eating. Could have been a few days, or a few weeks now. I can't tell.”

 

“Thank you, Mister Potter.” She came to a halt in front of the Hospital Wing and turned around to look him in the eyes, “You don't look well, it's probably best if you get some Calming Draught. Wait here for me.”

 

She left and returned seconds later with a small vial in her hands, “Go to your bed, take this, and sleep. Do you hear me Harry? I'm glad you found him, but there's nothing else you can do right now.”

 

Harry could only nod to let her know he had heard her. Everything around him was somehow blurry, and his brain, now that he had done his job to alert the Headmistress, had seemingly shut down completely.

 

Turning around, he made his way to his bedroom, the small vial pressed flat against his chest.

 

* * *

 

The next day Harry woke up with a massive headache. He refused to get up in time for breakfast and ignored Ron when he came to look for him, pretending to be asleep.

 

The second he had left the room Harry fumbled around to find the map. He hadn't hid it under his pillow yesterday like he usually did, instead he fell asleep right on top of it.

 

Inspecting it closely, he relaxed a bit after seeing it was unharmed.

 

Whispering a quiet “Thank you” to the map he opened it to search the Hospital Wing for Malfoy.

 

Harry found him in the bed closest to the door, and laughed to himself for knowing the order of the beds by heart. He really needed to find a brilliant gift for Madam Pomfrey when he left Hogwarts, given how often he was her patient.

 

Three moving dots on their way to the Hospital Wing caught his attention. Parkinson, Zabini and Goyle were on their way there but before they could enter the dot of Madam Pomfrey blocked them, appearing to  refuse them entry into the Hospital Wing.

 

Parkinson’s dot moved in a half circle around her friends a few times before it stopped and stood still again. Harry couldn't even begin to imagine the discussion they were having at the moment.

 

He could nearly hear Parkinson screeching about not being allowed to visit Malfoy while she paced the hallway.

 

If his friends were not even allowed to visit him, Harry had no idea how he would, but he wanted to—needed to know what was going on.

 

Making a decision, he jumped up and dressed himself as quickly as possible.

 

Once dressed, he studied the map and found that the Slytherins were on their way back to the eighth year quarters. He needed to be quick if he wanted to catch them before they came in.

 

Shoving the map into his pocket Harry rushed out of his room and ran towards the door, opening it just as the others approached.

 

Slightly out of breath he looked at Parkinson, who stared back at him with wide eyes.

 

It wasn't like they were enemies anymore. No, it was more like they had a truce to ignore the others’ existence as best they could, and Harry was about to break it.

 

“Parkinson? May I have a word?”

 

“I'm not in the mood to talk to you right now, Potter.”

 

“It's important! Please?” The ‘please’ made her head snap back up to meet his gaze and she nodded before stepping away from her companions.

 

“What is it, Potter?” She had stopped by one of the large windows, tapping her fingers impatiently against her crossed arms.

 

“Did you hear anything about Malfoy's condition?” Harry knew it was risky to ask her straight out, but he had no idea how he could approach the topic less directly.

 

By the look she gave him, he regretted that he hadn't even tried.

 

“How do you know about that?”

 

“I found him last night. Look, I just want to know if he's alright.”

 

“We don't know. The only thing we know is that he is in the Hospital Wing and isn't allowed to have visitors. And if I find out you had anything to do with it, I swear by Salazar, you _will_ pay for it, Potter.”

 

With that said, she stormed off, leaving Harry to gawk after her.

 

* * *

 

Harry waited in his room, looking at the map, waiting for Madam Pomfrey to retire for the night and watching his classmates slowly come back to the castle from Hogsmeade.

 

It was Saturday so most of them were still out, curfew wasn't until 2am for them, after all, but here and there he spotted a few returning already.

 

Ron and Hermione were still out for their date night, while the Slytherins had retired to Pansy’s room together, probably to plot what they'd do to him if it came out it was his fault Malfoy was in the Hospital Wing at the moment, but Harry didn't mind. His biggest fear was that they'd sit in the common room for the rest of the night, which would make sneaking away much harder than it should be. Especially since it was only to look after Malfoy.

 

Finally, the Hospital Wing was empty, except for Malfoy of course, so Harry grabbed his Invisibility Cloak from his bed and prepared to make the short walk through the castle. After checking the map one last time for returning students, he pulled the cloak over his pyjamas and opened the door.

 

* * *

 

Studying the map under his cloak, Harry waited behind a suit of armor until Peeves hopped by, singing a rude song about Filch and broomsticks, before he stood and walked the last corridor to the Hospital Wing.

 

He nearly expected Madam Pomfrey to have set an alarm spell to catch him sneaking in given the fact she had done the same with Parkinson and the others today, but apparently they had just been too loud because the dot of Madam Pomfrey stayed in her quarters, unmoving.

 

Pushing the door open Harry snuck in, careful to not make any noise.

 

The only bed with drawn curtains was indeed the one next to the door. He could hear some rustling behind them and crept closer.

 

“Malfoy?”

 

There was no answer, so Harry slipped through the gap and shut the curtain completely behind him.

 

Malfoy was asleep, his face wasn't as grey anymore and his breathing was stronger today. Harry let out a relieved breath.

 

He stepped closer, careful to not come in contact with the blue light surrounding Malfoy's bed—small, blue strings of shining magic were entering his body from multiple angles, and Harry wasn't sure what to make of it.

 

A clipboard on Malfoy's nightstand caught his attention.

 

Stepping closer, he looked down at it; the words ‘dehydration’ and ‘stopped eating’ caught his eye, and Harry wondered what had happened to make Malfoy take it that far.

 

A cold hand touched his wrist, making him jump, and Harry's attention snapped back to the bed.

 

“So you really are here,” Malfoy said, barely recognisable.

 

“Malfoy…what happened to you? I thought—I thought you were dead when I found you.” Harry couldn't control the shaking in his voice.

 

“Water?”

 

“Wha—Oh! Yeah, wait!” Fumbling for his wand he cast a quick Aguamenti at the empty glass on Malfoy's nightstand.

 

He looked down at his former nemesis, who definitely couldn't sit up on his own, and sighed heavily, not sure what to do next.

 

When Malfoy nevertheless tried to sit up, Harry feared the worst.

 

“Wait, you git, let me help you. You can't just do shit like that, you'll collapse again! Parkinson is already on my heels for last night!”

 

Malfoy had the nerve to chuckle while Harry desperately tried to move him into a halfway-sitting position without disturbing the blue light.

 

Supporting him with a few pillows he quickly summoned from the other beds, Harry managed to steady Malfoy so he could take a sip of water.

 

“So, what happened?” Harry asked after he put the glass back on the nightstand.

 

“I fainted, isn't that obvious? Good that you still ask stupid questions, otherwise I'd believe I was dreaming,” Malfoy rolled his eyes.

 

“I meant _why_ did you faint, Malfoy. Don't pretend to be dumber than you are. I really thought…”

 

“Obviously that’s what happens if you don't eat the shit they serve here,” Malfoy drawled, eyes closed.

 

“So you really weren't eating. Why weren't you eating? And since when? I know what it’s like to be hungry, and the food here is great—”

 

“That's none of your business, Potter. It tastes like shit, so I don't eat it. End of discussion. Would you mind helping me with another sip of water before you go? If you're really here, that is. I need to rest, at least that's what Pomfrey tells me.”

 

Harry looked at the pillows for a second, wondering if it wouldn't be for the best to suffocate the git right here and now, but did as requested and helped Malfoy take another sip of water before slowly taking the pillows away to help him lay back down.

 

“Potter? Don't tell Pansy. Just...don't.” Malfoy's eyes were already closed again.

 

“Yeah, okay. I won't tell her. Sleep well, git.”

 

Harry had already pulled on his cloak again when Malfoy chuckled once more, “Yeah, you too, you jerk.”

 

Harry left the Hospital Wing to go back to his bed, a small grin on his lips.  


* * *

 

 

“Back again, Potter?”

 

“Well, I have to check if you're faking it, don't I?”

 

It was Monday, and as far as Harry could tell the Slytherins still weren't allowed to visit Malfoy.

 

Harry hadn't even dared to ask, he simply waited for everyone to retire to their rooms, and then snuck out to go to the hospital wing once more.

 

Today Malfoy looked better, some of the colour on his face had returned and the dark rings under his eyes weren't as prominent anymore. Also, the blue light surrounding him was gone and he was able to move on his own, which was a relief to see.

 

“I'm bored. Pomfrey won't let anyone in to see me—I'm practically _happy_ to see you now, Potter. What does that tell you about my mental state?”

 

“So when can you get out of here to terrorise the school again?” Harry asked as he sat down on the bed by Malfoy's feet.

 

“I didn't realise I invited you to invade my personal space just by talking to you Potter,” Malfoy said with a grin.

 

“I'm tired and I want to sit, what else do you expect me to do? Levitate a bed over here for me next to yours? Be happy someone comes to visit you, you git.”

 

“Well, a chair would have done it too, but if you must... Please Potter, take a seat. I'm happy to share my bed with you.”

 

Harry burst out laughing but managed to muffle it with his hands. “Better think of rewording it next time, Malfoy. So, when will you get out of here?”

 

“Missing me already? Nobody else there to throw dark looks at? Pomfrey said I can go as soon as I gain some weight and my vitals are good enough. So, never.”

 

“I don't throw dark looks at you. And stop being so dramatic, you only have to eat something and you'll get better.”

 

“Only have to eat something,” Malfoy huffed before he threw himself into his pillows. “Don't you think I'd eat something if it was that easy?”

 

“So what is it? Why isn't it that easy?”

 

“Potter, I’ve barely eaten anything for weeks now. Everything tastes like dust, I can't—“

 

Malfoy was cut off by the sound of a door slowly opening. Harry was on his feet and under his cloak within a second. Only moments later Madam Pomfrey stepped through the curtains.

 

“Is there someone here with you? I heard voices.”

 

“Only me complaining about the lack of everything here. I'm thirsty,” Malfoy drawled at her.

 

“Mr. Malfoy, mind your manners.”

 

“I am minding my manners. If I had my wand back, like I’ve asked for, I could have done it myself. You said I can't have it back, so I'm minding my manners by telling you that I am thirsty, _after_ I told a few different things to the air surrounding me. It's a miracle I don't have to ask for it as well.”

 

“You know what, it is too late to have this discussion again.” With a snap of her fingers, a wand flew into her hand and she handed it to Malfoy. “Don't you dare cause a ruckus in my wing, I warn you. If you're not asleep the next time I come looking after you, I'll give you something to make you sleep. Good night, Mr. Malfoy.”

 

With that, she turned around and pushed through the curtains, mumbling something about the manners of kids these days.

 

Casting a silencing spell around his bed, Malfoy let out a loud sigh before he looked around.

 

“Still there, Potter?”

 

“I was sure she'd kill you for that! Are you mad? You can't talk to Madam Pomfrey like that!” Harry pulled the cloak from his head and shuffled closer to the bed. He had to go before she came back, and knowing her it could be any minute.

 

“Potter, believe me when I say I was way worse during my previous years here. I'm old enough to have my wand with me, even if I'm bound to a sick bed, and she knows that. And as you can see, it worked; I have it back.”

 

“Oh, I have no doubt you were worse. You're unbelievable.”

 

“Thanks for the compliment, Potter. Be careful, or else I’ll think you're growing soft on me and have stopped hating me for some reason.”

 

“I don't hate you!”

 

Harry had no idea where that had come from, of _course_ he hated him! What was he talking about? His only excuse was that it was late, and he was really tired. “I better go to bed now. Potions first thing in the morning, I need my sleep or I'll blow up the entire castle.”

 

“Likely…” Malfoy yawned and closed his eyes but before Harry could slip through the curtains Malfoy grabbed him by his wrist and looked up at him. “Don't forget that lovely cloak of yours. And come back tomorrow, yes? Don't leave me here for another two days with only her to talk to.”

 

“Yeah, I'll come back. G‘night, Malfoy.”

 

“Night, Potter.”

 

Throwing the cloak over himself again, Harry slipped out of the Hospital Wing and walked back to their quarters without really noticing his surroundings. He still felt Malfoy's cold fingers wrapped around his wrist. Harry had to find a way to make him better soon so that he could get out of there; if he was desperate enough to ask _him_ to come back, there was something seriously wrong with the git.

 

* * *

 

By the time classes finished the next day, Harry had formed a plan. The idea had come to him while he was brewing, or rather failing to brew, his potion for the day.

 

He had to ask McGonagall for permission to use her Floo, which wasn't at all pleasant, before she gave in and ushered him out of her classroom with the promise that he could, but only after classes.

 

The next part would be the easiest—stepping out of the Floo at the Burrow, he grinned at Mrs. Weasley, who looked surprised to see him before she jumped up in a panic.

 

“Harry! Did something happen?”

 

“No, Mrs. Weasley, everyone is fine. Ginny is training the new Quidditch team with great success, and the elves worship Ron because he clears our table of all food within seconds.”

 

“Well that sounds about right, so why are you here, Harry? Anything wrong? Do you need anything?”

 

“Actually, yes. A, uhm, _friend_ of mine fell ill and he hasn’t been eating because he said everything tastes like dust. Then today I remembered the soup you made for Mr. Weasley when he came back from Mungo’s after the snake attack and thought maybe that would help. So I stopped by to ask you if you could maybe give me the recipe so I can make it? Please?”

 

“Well, yes of course I can! But why don't you ask one of the house elves to make a soup? I'm sure they'd love to do it, they always loved to make something special for us when we snuck out to visit the kitchen.”

 

“I'm not sure...I just want to do it myself.”

 

“Oh, I see. I did the same thing when Arthur fell ill during our sixth year.” She smiled at him and turned to make her way to the kitchen before Harry realised what she had just said.

 

“No! Mrs. Weasley, that's not how—”

 

“I don’t mind love, it's none of my business. Here, I found it. It takes a few hours, so you better get started, the longer you let it simmer the better it gets. And the most important thing to remember: chicken soup is good when you're ill, but beef will heal your heart and soul.”

 

* * *

 

Harry hadn't even made it two steps into the kitchen before he was surrounded by house elves asking him if they could serve him a cup of tea or some biscuits while he waited for dinner to be served. He couldn't even form a proper sentence before another one cut him off with another question. This went on for a minute or two before Kreacher stepped in, and Harry thought he had never been so happy to see him.

 

“Kreacher is master Potter's elf, if master Potter is in need of something, Kreacher will take care of it.”

 

“As long as Kreacher is in this castle he is the elf of everyone here, not only Mister Harry Potter's! And as long as Mister Harry Potter lives in this castle we're all here to serve him!” a young elf angrily chimed in.

 

“It's fine! Really! I don’t need anything in particular! I just wanted to ask if I could borrow a pot, a knife and a place to cook something on my own...can I?”

 

The elves around him gasped as one and at least ten sets of huge eyes stared at him in shock.

 

“Is Mister Harry Potter not happy with the food we serve?”

 

“Why does Mister Potter wants to cook on his own? Did he not like his last meal?”

 

“The master always preferred to cook on his own. Raised by Muggles, no sense of manners, won't listen to poor old Kreacher, and won't listen to you. What does the master need to cook?” Kreacher drawled as he pushed himself through the shocked elves to put an end to the discussion.

 

“Thanks, Kreacher. I want to cook soup for Malfoy, he's not feeling well. I thought maybe if I—”

 

“Why doesn't Harry Potter say so right in the beginning! Kreacher will always help to serve the family of Black! Did Master Harry Potter ever wonder if the Dark Lord took a part of his brain too—”

 

“Kreacher can't talk to Mister Potter like this!” The young elf chimed in again.

 

“It's okay, uhm—?”

 

“Mim, Mister Potter, Sir!”

 

“Nice to meet you, Mim. I'm used to it by now, Kreacher can say whatever he wants. Can I get a place to cook now?”

 

“If the Master would follow Kreacher, he can show him a place where he won't stand in our way.”

 

Harry carefully pushed his way through the small group of elves to follow Kreacher to the back of the kitchen. With a snap of his fingers Kreacher summoned a cutting board and a pot for him and Harry was thankful to see that it was a normal size compared to the ones they typically used to cook dinner for the students.

 

“Anything else Kreacher can do?”

 

“A knife would help?” Harry nearly laughed out loud when Kreacher turned around to go to one of the counters mumbling something about wizards not knowing how to properly use their wands anymore before he came back and handed Harry a small knife. “Thanks, you can help the others now. I'll call if I need something.”

 

“Very well, Master Potter.” Kreacher bowed and shuffled away to help prepare dinner for the rest of the castle.

 

Grinning, Harry got to work by pulling vegetables out of a shrunken bag he had carried in his pocket, before he started to peel the carrots.

 

* * *

 

By the time the soup was ready, Harry had eaten his dinner in the kitchen, served by a very pleased Mim who watched him while he took his first bite to make sure he liked it. He had also finished his homework for the week and started on the potions essay due next week, until a particularly big yawn urged him to give up on the essay and ask Hermione if she could help him with it later.

 

Checking the map, he found Madam Pomfrey walking between the four occupied beds in the Hospital Wing. Judging by the movements on the map it must be curfew soon, so he figured she must be doing her last round before bed.

 

The whole day he couldn't help but question himself as to why he was going through all of this trouble. If it was for Hermione or Ron, he'd have had a real reason to do it...but Malfoy? Molly’s words came to mind and he couldn't help but think about them. He didn't like the git, not like Molly liked Arthur, so why was he so obsessed with making him feel better? Maybe it was the war. They had lost so many people, and he'd be damned if they lost even one more. Maybe he really did have a hero complex. What other reason could he have? Harry still shook when he thought of Malfoy laying on the floor of the Astronomy Tower, and even if he didn't know why he was so bothered he was sure about one thing—he never wanted to see Malfoy like that again, ever.

 

A nudge to his side made him snap back to reality; Harry blinked a few times before he looked down at Kreacher.

 

“Kreacher is here to remind the Master that the soup he made needs to be delivered. Master Malfoy's food came back to the kitchen nearly untouched once again. Does the Master want Kreacher to deliver it?”

 

“No, thanks, Kreacher, I'll do it myself. Could you secure the rest of it for tomorrow after I take a portion of it now? Maybe he'll eat it, who knows.”

 

Harry waited for a sign that Kreacher would do as asked, he was never sure if the old elf would do what he asked for, but after a short nod he stood and filled a bowl before he collected the map and threw the Invisibility Cloak over his head.

 

He had just reached the portrait hole when Kreacher’s raspy voice from behind him made him stop.

 

“Tell Master Malfoy he simply has to call for Kreacher if there is something the master needs. Kreacher is always happy to serve the house of Black.”

 

“Will do, thanks, Kreacher.”

 

Harry climbed through the hole and made his way through the castle, only stopping briefly behind a suit of armor near the Hospital Wing to check if Madam Pomfrey had gone to bed by now, which she seemingly had.

 

Sneaking in, he didn't even ask for Malfoy's okay before he stepped through the curtains and balanced the bowl in one hand to cast a silencing spell around them before he pulled the cloak off and sat down by Malfoy's feet on the bed.

 

“Thought you had forgotten me, Potter.”

 

“You've gotten on my nerves for nearly eight years now, how could I forget you? I was in the kitchens, took me a bit longer today.”

 

Malfoy sat in his bed now, his hair a total mess and he looked like he hadn’t slept much last night, but the fact that he was sitting upright, on his own, was a small success in Harry's eyes.

 

“Madam Pomfrey forced me to eat the rot they sent me today.”

 

“Yes, but you didn't eat much of it, my elf told me.”

 

“Didn't like it. Why is your elf spying on me? Do you always send elves to spy on other people for you Potter?”

 

Harry felt his cheeks get hot as he answered without thinking, “NO! I mean, I did once or twice. But not this time! He simply told me!”

 

“Sure, sure. So what's new today? Did you blow up the potions room?”

 

“No, but I did melt a cauldron; I need to ask ‘Mione what I did wrong this time, and for some help with the essay I have to write for next week.”

 

“You're unbelievable.”

 

Harry didn't think he was imagining the very real smile on Malfoy's lips now. The sight of it did something to him. He had never seen Malfoy smile, not at him, not at _all_ since Voldemort had returned, and now he sat here with his hair a mess, smiling at him as if he had never done anything else.

 

Harry tried to swallow around the lump in his throat, there was something else, something he had to—with a start he remembered the bowl in his hands. “I made soup for you!” Well, that was awkward. “Uhm, I thought, maybe you'd like it? I cooked it myself.”

 

Malfoy furrowed his brow as he looked at the bowl, appearing to have just now noticed it. “You made soup? For me? I already ate, Potter. And I can't imagine your soup would taste decent, if only for the reason that you still manage to melt cauldrons after seven years of practice.”

 

“It's good, I tasted it! I thought maybe you'd like it, you know, to save Madam Pomfrey from you.”

 

“Put it on my nightstand, I'll eat it once you're gone so they can't link the saviour to my inevitable death.”

 

“Promise me you'll at least try it before you vanish it all.”

 

“Yes, fine, I'll eat your poison. Can't let the opportunity to die a quick and painful death by soup slip away.”

 

“Shut up.”

 

When Harry left half an hour later, he was surprised at how easy it had been to talk to Malfoy. After the soup incident they had sat in uncomfortable silence for a few minutes until Harry remembered that Zabini had a small accident in Herbology which had left him emitting a constant buzzing sound that wouldn’t stop for the next twenty-four hours, making him sound like a huge, pissed off bee. Malfoy laughed so loud that Harry nervously checked the silencing spell around them before he chimed in.

 

Before he left, Harry promised to visit again tomorrow and told Malfoy to call for Kreacher if he needed anything.

 

Entering their eighth year common room, he waved at Ron and Hermione, who only stared back at him, before heading straight to bed. Still smiling, he fell asleep within minutes.

 

* * *

 

 

“Master Potter is back. Kreacher knew the master would return in time.”

 

“In time for what?” Harry was greeted by the loud hum of activity that was the kitchen at serving time, and Kreacher, who had already shuffled excitedly to the entrance and begun to pull him back to his spot from last night.

 

“Master Malfoy called for Kreacher last night. Kreacher came to speak with a Black family member after all that time, oh what a pleasure. Young Master Malfoy ate all the soup Master Potter had cooked for him, the pot is empty. Master Potter has to make more of it!”

 

“Wait, did you say he ate it? And he liked it?” Harry couldn't believe his ears.

 

“Yes, Master Malfoy said it was the first thing he could eat in ages, and that it needs more salt, he made that point pretty clear. He ate three bowls last night, and one this morning.”

 

Harry felt the urge to pinch his arm. How could it be that Malfoy ate nothing for weeks and then suddenly ate a full pot of soup in one night? And then have the nerve to complain that it needs more salt!

 

Maybe it would be a good idea to put more vegetables in the soup this time, and more meat, and maybe some noodles if the git was so hungry that he ate that much overnight.

 

But there was one problem: “I haven't bought anything new, can I use some of your supply?”

 

“Whatever the Master needs, Kreacher is happy to help.”

 

* * *

 

Harry waited behind his usual suit of armor for the Hospital Wing to be clear; tonight, only one other bed was occupied but Madam Pomfrey wasn't done with the fourth year there. It took nearly an hour more than usual before she finally retired for the night and Harry could sneak into the wing unnoticed, another bowl of soup in hand.

 

He hadn't even sat down properly before Malfoy snatched the bowl out of his hands and started to eat.

 

“So you're eating again. That's good.”

 

“And you managed to get the amount of salt right this time,” Malfoy said, not even looking up while he answered.

 

Harry laughed, but didn't dare disturb him again until he cleared the bowl. Instead he laid back on the bed and closed his eyes. It wasn't really comfortable, his leg was still on the ground and his head was strangely tilted so it wouldn't hang from the edge, but he was tired.

 

They had duelling lessons with their new Defence teacher, and of course he had volunteered Harry to be his demonstration partner for the whole class.

 

If his position was even a tiny bit more comfortable, Harry could fall asleep right here and probably only wake up again tomorrow morning when Madam Pomfrey kicked him out personally.

 

“Duelling again?”

 

Harry snapped out of his trance to blink at Malfoy, who had emptied the bowl by now. “Yes. It's not like there are others who could help with it as well.”

 

“Hmm you could just say no, you know? Nobody would blame you. You always practically fall asleep while eating dinner after duelling lessons, and look like shit the next day.”

 

“Thanks, but I'm not good at saying no to anyone. What did Pomfrey say today?”

 

“Learn how to say no. She was surprised that I ate this morning. I tried to eat lunch and dinner too, thinking maybe now—but it didn't taste like anything; I ate the minimum so she wouldn't nag and pretended to be asleep when she came back to pick up the leftovers.” Malfoy looked disappointed now.

 

“It can't be that bad. We've eaten this stuff since day one—it's close to Molly’s food, which is the best I ever ate! I just don't get why you'd stop eating just because you don't like it anymore. I went years without enough food, I would eat stuff out of a bin if I had to—”

 

“It's none of your business, Potter. Thanks to you and your soup, Pomfrey is thinking about letting me out of here by the end of the week. I just have to eat the bare minimum and it'll be fine. She saw that I _can_ eat after all. I'll get through it without you asking stupid questions.”

 

Harry's anger at the stupid git flared, and he was just about to tell him off when a realisation hit him and all the air left his lungs. “You're hungry. You want to eat, but you can't. Something happened. That's why you're so snippy. You didn't just _decide_ to stop eating, something made you stop.”

 

“I'm tired. Leave so I can sleep.”

 

“Malfoy…”

 

“I said I'm tired, Potter. Go.”

 

Harry stood, not knowing what to do now, and watched as Malfoy lay back down and pulled the blanket over his head, back turned towards Harry. He knew he had it right, Malfoy's reaction was all the proof he needed.

 

Sighing, he rubbed his face before looking back at the bed; he knew this discussion was over for now and nothing he could say would change that.

 

Reaching out, he hesitated for a second before he touched Malfoy's shoulder. Malfoy tensed, but Harry didn't draw back.

 

“Kreacher is waiting for you to call for him. Please eat. And tell Kreacher if you want to see me again. Good night, Malfoy.”

 

Harry let go and left. When he entered his bedroom a short while later he yanked the cloak off and dropped it on the ground, not caring whether someone could find it since nobody would come to visit him tonight anyways.

 

Harry didn't sleep well that night, too many thoughts swirled in his mind and he didn't know what to do next. Something had happened to Malfoy, and he apparently hadn’t told anyone. He wasn't up to something at all, but he didn't want help either. And why, why did he care so much about any of this?

 

* * *

 

Friday afternoon Harry found himself laying in his bed with no motivation left to do anything at all. Ron and Hermione had asked if he wanted to join them in Hogsmeade, but he had declined the offer.

 

He hadn't visited Malfoy last night; Kreacher had told him that Malfoy didn't wish to see him, but that he had eaten all of the soup without saying another word. After that, Harry set to work making another pot of soup for him.

 

This time he made potato soup, the one he had learned to cook at the Burrow years ago, after he had pestered Molly about helping in the kitchen. He figured that eating the same thing everyday would get boring after a while.

 

He'd find out tonight if Malfoy had been able to eat it. If not, he'd make another pot of noodle soup. If so, he'd make something new again. Even if the git refused to speak to him, he wouldn't let him go hungry, not if he had a way to help him.  

 

But first he needed to try and get another hour of restless sleep, where he'd no doubt wake up with the image of Malfoy appearing to be dead on the floor burned into his mind.

 

* * *

 

“The Master has to wake up, he's dreaming. Not a good dream, Kreacher can tell.”

 

Harry jolted up and nearly hit Kreacher. but the old Elf was quick enough to jump out of his way before leaning back in to take a closer look at Harry.

 

“Master Malfoy looked the same this morning, Kreacher has no idea why the masters have trouble sleeping. Stubborn pack. Too closed up to see what's right in front of the—”

 

“Enough, Kreacher, please. My head already hurts. Why did you wake me?” Harry closed his eyes and felt tempted to go back to sleep. Whatever it was it could surely wait—

 

“Master Malfoy is free to leave tonight. He asked Kreacher to get Master Potter for him, so that he can sneak in unnoticed from his friends. He doesn't want them to know he's back yet. Kreacher knows, the Parkinson family was always exhausting, the Parkinson friend of Master Malfoy has to be like the others: loud, rude, uncivilised.”

 

“Sounds like Pansy, yes. But she is funny too, as far as I know.” He couldn't believe he had just defended Pansy from his elf. “Did Malfoy eat the potato soup?”

 

“Yes Master Potter. Ate it all. Surely is hungry again. But first has to go back to his bedroom. He is waiting for the Master behind the suit of armor next to the Hospital Wing.”

 

“Yeah I know which one you're talking about. Tell him I'll be there in ten.”

 

Kreacher bowed, then Disapparated, leaving Harry alone in his bedroom. Yawning, he stood up and searched for his glasses; he glanced out the window and saw nothing but darkness—he must have slept longer than he had planned.

 

After pulling on some clothes he grabbed the Invisibility Cloak and hid it under his jumper before he left his room to pick up Malfoy, shaking his head over the bizarre situation.

 

* * *

 

“What took you so long?”

 

“I fell asleep, Kreacher had to wake me,” Harry answered just as grumpily as Malfoy. “And if I took too long you could have always left without me. I'm sure you know how a Disillusionment Charm works.”

 

“Pansy would still see me, the charm stopped working on her after our fourth year. Don't ask.”

 

“So you needed something and thus started to speak with me again?”

 

“No,” Malfoy said, not really meeting his eyes. “I came to the conclusion that I overreacted and am sorry for it. And I know you know that otherwise you'd have stopped cooking for me. So if you have the grace to get me out of here and near something to eat I'd be forever grateful.”

 

“I overslept so you’ll have to watch me while I make dinner for us. Or you could wait in your room.”

 

“I'll come with you. The longer I delay going back there, the longer I have until Pansy finds me and pesters me with questions. Did you bring your cloak?”

 

Harry pulled it out of his jumper and waited for Malfoy to hide under it before he walked towards the kitchen. They had to stop once because Malfoy stumbled and grabbed onto Harry so as not to fall over. Harry was shocked when Malfoy nearly apologized for the blunder and it took him a moment to realize that Malfoy hadn’t been allowed to to move much for nearly a week now, and the lack of food certainly didn’t help. After that, Harry walked slower.

 

When they reached the kitchen, Kreacher was waiting for them by the door and guided them to the small table where Harry usually sat to eat and do his homework while waiting for Malfoy's food to be finished.

 

“What does the Master need today?”

 

“Potatoes and spinach, an onion, and ground beef. I thought we'd try real food today because I'm hungry as well.” Harry looked at Malfoy questioningly and received an enthusiastic nod in response that nearly made him laugh out loud.

 

Malfoy watched him while he cooked, refusing offers of tea and biscuits from the house elves, only accepting a small glass of water. Harry felt Malfoy's eyes on his back with every move and he wasn't sure why, but it made him nervous.

 

Maybe it was the fact that whenever Malfoy had watched him in the past something bad was about to happen, a snide remark or a hex; but this time, this time it felt different. Harry relaxed after a few minutes and about an hour later their food was ready without any major incidents, except a small burn on his finger he had successfully managed to hide from Malfoy. After tasting it for the last time he filled two plates and shoved one in front of Malfoy, who promptly started to cut his potatoes into small pieces.

 

Harry watched closely as Malfoy took his first bite; for some reason he really wanted Malfoy to like the food he had made for them. The moan that followed was enough to let him know he once again had done a good job. Smiling, Harry dug into his own food.

 

He was only halfway through his share when Malfoy pushed his plate away and sighed, then leaned back and stretched his arms before folding them behind his head.

 

“It's the Asphodel.”

 

“Come again?” Harry had no idea what Malfoy was talking about.

 

“The reason you always fuck up your Potions. Severus told us in our first year that one has to be crucially accurate with it; if not, three out of five potions would fail. You're living proof, I've been counting.”

 

Harry nearly choked on his potato, “You've been counting my failed potions? Why didn't you tell me if you knew the reason?”

 

Rolling his eyes, Malfoy took a sip of water before he answered, “Because I didn't like you. It was fun watching you.”

 

“Oh, and now you do? Like me, I mean?”

 

“I'm—not as opposed to the idea as I was a week ago. That doesn't mean I like you, just—that I maybe don't hate you that much anymore.”

 

If Harry's eyes weren’t betraying him, Malfoy's cheeks were a little pink, and for some reason the sight made his heart flutter. Deciding it would be best to think about this later, he grinned at Malfoy before returning to his plate while Malfoy watched the elves, waiting for him to finish.

 

Once Harry finished eating they both left the kitchen in comfortable silence, Malfoy hidden under the cloak once again, and made their way back to the eighth year’s quarters.

 

Seconds after entering the common room they knew the cloak had been the right decision. Not only was Pansy now staring at Harry, but she also kept glancing back at Ron. They had seemingly been arguing over Merlin-knows-what just before Harry and Malfoy entered the room. Harry had the distinct feeling he'd know what the argument was about pretty soon.

 

Turning around to close the door behind them, he looked at where Malfoy should be,“Go, I'll pick it up later.” Whispering to an empty wall felt strange to him, but he must have gotten the location right because something briefly brushed his arm, causing goosebumps to travel up and down his whole arm.

 

“Mate! There you are! Please tell this nosy bitch that you, in fact, weren't sneaking into the Hospital Wing just now to see the poncy git so that we all can have a peaceful night!” Ron nearly shouted at him.

 

“What? Why would you think I'd do that? I missed dinner so I went to the kitchen to get something to eat.” Technically this wasn't a lie, so Harry didn't feel too bad about it.

 

“See! Told you he was just strolling around! Nobody visited your bloody ferret now leave us alone!”

 

“Is that so? Isn't it strange that Potter just so happened to _find_ him a week ago, and no one has been allowed to visit him since?!” Turning away from Ron, she now yelled directly at Harry. “I want to know what you did to him! I want to know what happened to Draco!”

 

“I didn’t do anything! Look, Parkinson, I bet Draco is better by now and just resting. If it’ll make you feel better, I can go and talk to McGonagall tomorrow morning. But screaming at me won't help now.”

 

She looked furious, and Harry knew it had been a dangerous move to not answer her with the same rage, but he was tired and, he realized to his shock, he understood her. If he didn’t know what was going on, he'd feel the same. But he did know...and Malfoy's best friends didn't. All said, it was a strange situation, but somehow he enjoyed it—that he was the one Malfoy had come to, knowing he wouldn't judge him or ask him any stupid questions, and that was even more strange.

 

All of Parkinson’s anger seemed to disappear at once until all that was left was an empty shell. She looked hopeless and small; not even close to the usual confidence Harry was used to seeing in her, and his heart stung at the sight.

 

“I believe you, Potter. For once, I do. I just want to know what happened to him; he's my best friend, I'm worried.”

 

“I know, I'll talk to McGonagall about Draco tomorrow morning. Yes?”

 

“Fine. Uhm, thanks, Potter.” With that she turned and left towards the direction of the girl’s bedrooms.

 

Ron waited until she was gone before dragging Harry to the corner of the room and staring at him as if he had lost the plot.

 

“Mate, what by Merlin’s beard was that?! Since when are we _civil_ with _Parkinson? Draco?_ What the hell happened?”

 

Had he really said Draco? Godric and Salazar… “Nothing happened! I'd be just like her if you were in the Hospital Wing for a week, I'm trying to help! How long had you been screaming at each other when I showed up?”

 

“A few minutes. But why help _her_? She'd never help us!”

 

“Yeah, someone has to start changing that. So I did. Look, I know the Slytherins did a lot of shit. They were stupid and smug little arseholes, but they went through the same shit we did, and I think that was enough conflict for a lifetime. So let's just _try_ and be civil, at least. Yeah?”

 

“Yeah, fine. No idea where that came from, but I'll try. I'll apologise to her in the morning; she asked nicely in the beginning, only started shouting after I did,” Ron answered quietly.

 

“Thanks, mate. I'm tired, I'm off to bed now, okay?”

 

“Yeah—yeah, sure. G’night Harry.”

 

“Night Ron. Heads up, though, she really is annoying,” Harry said, grinning.

 

“Yeah, she is.” Ron's answering grin split his face in two and Harry laughed out loud while he waved goodnight to Hermione on the other side of the room.

 

Walking up the stairs, he stopped at his room and threw a locking charm over it before continuing further up the hall to get his cloak back from Malfoy.

 

* * *

 

Harry strode into Malfoy's room, causing him to jump and grab for the cloak laying at the end of his bed, until he realized who had entered.

 

“Salazar’s balls, Potter! Ever thought about knocking?”

 

“Great idea with Zabini’s room right next to yours. Not suspicious at all if he finds me knocking at your door, even less when you're supposed to be in the Hospital Wing.”

 

“Yeah, you're probably right.” He threw himself back onto his bed, burying his face in his hands for a second before looking back at Harry. “Lock the door, I don't want anybody else to scare me to death. What was going on down there? You didn't tell Pans, did you?”

 

“Ron and Parkinson had a minor disagreement, but they're good now. I didn't tell on you, but she's worried and I promised her I’d talk to McGonagall about you first thing in the morning, so you have to tell her that you're back.”

 

“Thanks again, Potter.”

 

“Yeah, no worries.”

 

They stared at each other for a few moments, neither knowing what to say or do now. This situation was new to both of them; they were used to screaming at each other, throwing deady glares and hexes across the room, but this?

 

When the silence got too heavy Harry moved to take his Invisibility Cloak and go, but before he reached the door Malfoy called out to him.

 

“Potter, wait.”

 

Harry turned back and found Malfoy fidgeting with the sleeve of his shirt, seemingly nervous about what he wanted to say. So Harry simply waited.

 

“How will we do this? I mean—it seems like you're the only one capable of cooking food that doesn't taste like shit, and I can't go with eating next to nothing for the rest of the year. Madam Pomfrey will have my arse if I do so… Tonight's food was even better than yesterday's and I—”

 

“Nothing will change just because you're back now,” Harry said quickly. Slower then, “I mean, I don't know _what_ exactly we are, but I'd never let you starve, not even the poncy eleven year old you. I'll find a way, but try to eat at least a bit at the table everyday, yes? I'm sure they'll be watching you now. It'll be good, I promise. I think tomorrow you’ll be up late; I don't know Parkinson that well, but I know enough to tell that she won't leave your side early. But I'll know when she's gone; I'll come over a few minutes later, yes?”

 

Something flitted over Malfoy face, an expression Harry couldn't quite read, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. Malfoy nodded, “Yeah, sounds great. Thank you, Potter. For—you know.”

 

 _Keeping this a secret,_ Harry finished the sentence in his head. “Yeah, no problem. See you tomorrow then.”

 

“Tomorrow, yeah.”

 

Harry took this as his cue to leave. Throwing the cloak over himself, he released the locking charm and went to his own room, already knowing another restless night was waiting for him, even if he couldn't tell why.

 

* * *

 

Harry was one of the first students to enter the Great Hall for breakfast the next morning.

 

He had spent half the night tossing and turning in his bed, pictures of Malfoy spinning in his head: Malfoy laying on the ground, Malfoy grinning at him, Malfoy simply looking at him, without a sneer, just open and friendly for once. He thought about what Malfoy had said in the kitchen, and the blush creeping on his face, and gave up. He had no logical explanation for any of this, so he resumed his tossing and turning until he fell asleep, the sky outside his window already beginning to lose the darkness of night.

 

He didn't look to see who else was there when he sat down to eat, it was Saturday, so most of the older students would be sleeping in anyways, only coming to the Great Hall shortly before the tables would be cleared.

 

While eating the last bit of his perfectly-done scrambled eggs, his mind inevitably wandered back to Malfoy.

 

Something had made him stop eating the food. That he was sure about, it couldn't be anything else. Not even Malfoy was pretentious enough to simply stop eating just because it wasn't to his taste anymore. He wondered briefly if the elves could've meddled with his food, but rejected that idea almost immediately; they'd never do anything like that, so it had to be something else.

 

He knew he would have to figure out what had happened on his own. Malfoy would never tell him, and after what happened the last time, Harry didn't even dare to ask him again.

 

He absently buttered a few slices of toast before cutting an apple and packing all of it into a napkin. Maybe Hermione could help him figure it out. He had to find a way to ask her without making her suspicious.

 

Blinking down at the small package in his hands he wondered, not for the first time, why exactly he had done this; he hadn't even noticed it till now. He looked around for someone who might have noticed what he had done, but only found Luna, who smiled down at her plate. He shoved the food into the pocket of his hoodie before he let out a sigh and stood to leave.

 

It seemed like he needed to go back to the boy’s rooms before he could sit in the common room to wait for Hermione and think of a plan.

 

* * *

 

Malfoy's room was locked when Harry arrived; he contemplated what to do before casting a quick, silent unlocking charm at the door, which snapped open instantly, much to his surprise.

 

Malfoy was still asleep and Harry couldn't help but notice how much better he looked. His face wasn’t so gaunt, and though his hair was still a mess it looked rather soft now. He suddenly had an urge to comb his fingers through it to see if it really was as soft as it looked.

 

Mentally slapping himself across the face he shook his head and placed the package on Malfoy's nightstand. He wanted to creep back out unnoticed but before he could open the door a quiet voice behind him made him jump.

 

“Harry? What you doing here?”

 

Did Malfoy just call him Harry? His brain stopped working for a second, and he was too occupied staring at the sleepy face of his former nemesis to answer.

 

Clearing his throat he snapped his eyes away and looked at the package on the nightstand, “Brought you breakfast. It's still early, go back to sleep.”

 

With a mumbled “Thank you” Malfoy did just that and Harry all but ran out of the room.

 

He really needed to speak to Hermione, quick. Harry felt like he was losing his mind, and now that it was finally his, and his alone, he didn't want that to happen anytime soon.

 

Waiting in the common room, Harry tried to think of what to tell her that wouldn’t make her suspicious straight away, but when she came down he still had no idea what to say.

 

“Morning, Harry! What are you doing up this early? Ron is still snoring like a sailor.”

 

“I need to talk to you, ‘Mione. Somewhere people won't listen in, perhaps?”

 

Dropping her arms from gathering her hair to pull it back, she looked at him closely; he knew this look and instantly knew he had to give up the plot.

 

Sighing, he nodded towards his room and started walking that way, Hermione right at his heels. He closed the door and turned to find Hermione already sitting on his bed, a determined look on her face. Sighing again, he sat down next to her.

 

“So, uhm, there's something I need your help with. And it'd be cool if this could stay between us for now.”

 

“Sure. Are you going to tell me what's going on between you and Mal—Draco? Just know that we're happy for you and that we'll make things with the Slytherins work somehow!”

 

“Wha—? No! ‘Mione! I'm not—I mean we're not—! Look, ‘Mione, something happened to him. I found him last week unconscious in the Astronomy Tower, I thought he was dead. I already told you he wasn't eating, and you didn't listen to me, but now he’s told me that I was right. He stopped eating, ‘Mione, and not even Draco is such a git to starve himself just because he doesn't like the food here. He said everything here tastes like dust, or worse, and when I told him that I know something must have happened to him he stopped speaking to me for nearly two days; but somehow he can eat my food, and—I don't know what to do, Hermione, I really, really need your help.” Harry knew he was rambling, but he couldn't help himself, and he didn't even dare think about what Hermione thought he was going to tell her.

 

“Oh. Ohhh! Okay, let me see if I got this right. So Draco really did stop eating, because something happened to him, and the only thing he can eat is food you make for him, so you go to the kitchen to cook him stuff even though he stopped speaking to you and upset you. And you visited him how often? Even though nobody was allowed to visit him, which we know thanks to Pansy. Are you _sure_ you're not dating him?”

 

“I'm not dating Malfoy!”

 

“Oh it's still Malfoy?” Hermione grinned, but held her hands up in surrender at Harry's glare. “Okay, okay, fine! Got it! So he won't tell you what happened?”

 

“No.”

 

“Hmm, I can take a look at some books I saw at the library. It's either a rare sickness or, what I think is more plausible, a curse. And if it's a curse, there's got to be something to break it.”

 

“Great! Thanks, ‘Mione! I feel like I'm going mad over this. I can't stop thinking about it—I made breakfast for him without even realising it for Salazar’s sake!” Harry hid his face in his hands, feeling the need to pull all of his hair out, but Hermione gently pulled his hands away.

 

“You just keep taking care that he doesn’t starve, I'll find a solution for the rest of it, yeah?”

 

“Thank you. Really, I owe you.”

 

“I’ve stopped counting how often you and Ron say that.”

 

Harry laughed as Hermione stood to leave, but turned back at door and smiled at him. “You'll see, everything's going to be alright. And who knows, maybe the two of you will become friends somehow. Would make a nice change for once, don't you think so?”

 

Before he could even think of an answer Hermione was already gone, leaving him alone in his room.

 

* * *

 

Harry was waiting, staring at the map like he had been doing for hours now. The Slytherins were _still_ in Malfoy's room. Parkinson sat, or was lying, with Malfoy in his bed while Goyle sat at the small desk; Zabini’s dot was in the middle of the room, unmoving since Harry had checked the map the first time.

 

The lasagna he had made waited on his own desk, a Stasis Charm keeping it hot while he waited, and watched, and waited.

 

A few minutes past midnight he heard footsteps coming down the stairs; he jumped up from his bed and checked the map next to the food on his desk once more.

 

Finally Malfoy's room was empty other than Malfoy himself. Harry waited another few minutes, impatiently pacing his room, checking now and then for the dot labelled Pansy Parkinson to finally settle in her own room before he cast a spell to levitate the lasagna and plates carefully to Malfoy's room.

He didn't knock before walking in, knowing Malfoy was likely already waiting for him, and he wasn't wrong.

 

He hadn't even fully closed the door behind him before Malfoy was standing by his desk, waiting impatiently for Harry to put the food down.

 

Laughing, Harry levitated the lasagna to the desk before throwing a strong locking charm over Malfoy's door and the map onto the empty bed.

 

Surprised, he noticed that Malfoy had already prepared the two plates and was holding one out for Harry to take. He kept the other one and walked over to his bed, where he sat down and threw a glare at Harry that told him he ought to follow if he wanted to eat in peace.

 

Chuckling, he did as told. “Never thought you'd be one to eat in bed. Isn't that against, like, every standard you were taught?”

 

“It's also against the standard to eat food someone who has hated you for the biggest part of your life made especially for you, or to stab someone with a spoon. And I'm about to break the first standard, and the second one, too if you don't shut up and eat. I'm starving.”

 

Harry grinned in answer before taking his first bite.

 

After he finished his share he watched Malfoy, who was currently eating his second plate and likely heading toward a third, before he sent his own plate to the desk and laid down with a loud sigh, feeling both happy and very sleepy.

 

Thankfully, Malfoy nudged him with his foot a few minutes later, otherwise he'd have fallen asleep and probably never woken up again, or at least not for the rest of the night.

 

“What's that thing you threw on my bed?”

 

Harry blinked a few times, then adjusted his glasses and looked to where Malfoy was pointing and laughed. “Take a look at it. It won't bite you, I promise. I bet you’ll figure it out on your own.”

 

He watched Malfoy closely as he picked up the map with two fingers as if it was something dangerous, and waited for the realisation to hit him.

 

It didn't even take a full minute before Malfoy gasped and his eyes started to dart furiously over the map before they'd snap to Harry and then back to the map again.

 

“This is us! And there's Blaise in his bathroom. Longbottom walking up the stairs? What the hell is this?”

 

“It's the Marauders Map, my dad and his friends invented it when they were in Hogwarts together. It shows you where people are, and where they're going, hidden passages and the passwords to open them.”

 

“This is how you always found me? I always wondered… This map is impressive. Is this how you found me in the Astronomy Tower last week?”

 

“Kind of, yes.” Harry felt his cheeks getting hot, but he didn't look away from Malfoy's burning gaze.

 

“Thank you.”

 

Harry didn't know what to say; he knew these weren't just two simple words, for either of them. The air around them felt heavy, heavy with something Harry couldn't identify. But it wasn't like it usually was—it felt new, like a fresh beginning, a new chapter in their lives open for them, and them only, to finally write their own story; they just had to take their chance.

 

He didn't know how it happened, but suddenly he was hugging Draco, holding him close, while all of his emotions from the last week came crashing in on him. Tears stung his eyes when he noticed Draco was hugging him back just as tight. They _would_ find out what happened to him, and until then Harry had no problem taking care of him.

 

They fell asleep like this, neither of them wanting to let the other one go just yet.

 

* * *

 

Harry woke up when the sky outside was a light shade of pink; it took him a few moments to realise where he was, but as soon as someone next to him threw an arm over his chest, the memories of last night came rushing back.

 

He didn't know what had prompted him to pull Draco into his arms, nor did he know when they had lain down and fallen asleep, but he _did_ know he hadn't slept so well in a long time. He didn't really need to know why, but there would be time to worry about it later.

 

His only worry now was how Draco would react to all of it when he woke up, but he didn't dare leave. Not when he was feeling so cosy and warm.

 

Draco’s hand clutched onto Harry’s shirt as if he knew what he was thinking, and he snuggled even closer into Harry's side, warm puffs of air ghosting over Harry's neck whenever he exhaled. So Harry did the only thing he could; he closed his eyes and rolled onto his side, placing his chin on top of Draco's head and his arm around his middle. Falling asleep again had never been so easy.

 

* * *

 

“Draco? Wake up! We want to go for a walk to Hogsmeade! Since when are your bloody locking charms so strong? I can't open your door, darling, so you’d better wake up and meet us in the common room before I Bombarda your door.”

 

Harry's eyes snapped open and he looked at Draco, who looked as if he was having an aneurysm at that very moment. His eyes were comically huge as he stared at Harry, and his face had lost most of its colour, which wasn't much to begin with.

 

“Good morning. You should answer her before she actually Bombardas the door. Wouldn't put it past her. You can freak out when she's gone.” Harry's heart was beating in his throat, which made his whispered words sound a bit too breathless, but he couldn't help his own panic. Draco still hadn't moved.

 

“Draco?” Parkinson knocked against the door impatiently now.

 

This made Draco snap out of his trance. “I'm awake! Give me thirty minutes, I need to take a shower first!”

 

“I'll give you twenty, I won't support your odd morning rituals. You’ll look like shit no matter what.”

 

“Love you too, Pansy.”

 

Parkinson chuckled and seconds later they heard her walking slowly downstairs towards the common room.

 

When Draco looked back at him, Harry realised that he was still holding Draco by his side so he quickly pulled his hand back and sat up.

 

“Sorry. I didn't meant to fall asleep and—uhm, you know.”

 

“Who's freaking out now? Could you just—come back for another five minutes? Before I wake up completely and reconsider.”

 

“Wha—?”

 

“Shut up and come back, you're warm.”

 

Harry stared for another second before he carefully laid back down; he didn't know what Draco was up to, but he surely wasn't going to complain about it. Not while Draco snuggled himself so closely to his side like he was doing now. Maybe Hermione wasn't so far off with her guess as he had thought.

 

Rolling over again so that Draco could rest his head on Harry's arm without breaking it, he let out a sigh.

 

This wasn't nearly as awkward as he had thought it would be when he first woke up. If he had to be honest, lying here with Draco felt surprisingly good, and _right_ in a way he'd never even dared to think of.

 

Closing his eyes, he sighed and buried his nose in Draco's hair.

 

“I'm going to starve today,” Draco mumbled sleepily.

 

“No. I'll bring you some food to Hogsmeade. They won't even notice I'm there,” Harry mumbled back.

 

“You'd really do that?”

 

“Yeah. Of course.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Honestly, I don't even know,” Harry said, chuckling. “I'll just do it. And I'll make dinner for you tonight again. And tomorrow too, and the day after that, until we find out what happened.”

 

“I got cursed. Before I came back to Hogwarts. That’s what happened. I tried to find a countercurse, but I couldn't. At first the food just tasted less...everything, and then more and more, until I couldn't taste anything at all. You know the rest.”

 

Draco's body tensed with every word he said and Harry felt the urge to go out there and find whoever did this to him and make them pay for it. But instead, he pulled Draco closer in his arms.

 

“We'll find a way. Come to my room tonight when the others are gone, yes? We can eat the rest of the lasagna together.”

 

“Yeah, okay. You better go now. Pansy will be back in a few minutes and she won't leave until I leave with her. And I really need to take a shower before I go.”

 

Harry reluctantly let go of him and checked the map to see if it was safe to go out into the hall, then he left Draco's room, already counting down the hours until they'd be alone again.

 

He knew he was in deep trouble; not hating Draco was one thing, but falling for him—that was something he'd never thought could possibly happen. Especially over the course of a week.

 

He startled at that thought. Was he really falling for _Malfoy?_ He tried to tell himself that wasn't what was happening right now. They barely even knew each other, they had fought against each other since the second they had met, so this couldn't be happening. But deep down he knew that nobody knew him like Draco did; they'd both seen each other at their lowest, and they had always circled around each other like stars who'd collide sooner rather than later, taking everything surrounding them down with them. He knew people said there was a fine line between hate and love, and he had the feeling he had overstepped the line a long time ago without even noticing it.

 

* * *

 

Sneaking around Hogsmeade under his Invisibility Cloak to bring Draco some sandwiches was definitely one of the crazier things Harry had done in his life.

 

He felt as if he was back in third year again, except this time there was no snow he could hit Draco in the head with. Not yet, at least. Soon there would be, so maybe he'd be able to do it later. For now, however, he had to find the Slytherins without them noticing him and the smuggled sandwiches.

 

He nearly laughed at himself when he realised how much fun he was having doing this. Creeping through the small village, spying through the windows of the quaint shops who opened their doors for students even on a Sunday made him feel a bit like James Bond on a secret mission.

 

Finally he spotted the small group of Slytherins next to the Three Broomsticks; when he was close enough to listen to their conversation he found that they were about to part ways for small errands and had decided to meet back here in thirty minutes.

 

When Draco passed his hideout on the way to the Owlery, thankfully alone, he didn't hesitate to pull him into the small passage and under the cloak with him.

 

Grinning, he looked at Draco's shocked face and held up the packed sandwiches.

 

“Told you I'd come.”

 

Draco huffed a small laugh before he took the sandwiches out of his hands. “Just admit it, you were already missing me. You're only here for _that_ selfish reason and not at all for my well being.”

 

“Oh no, you figured out my darkest secret. Now I have to kill you.”

 

“Jerk.”

 

When Draco laughed Harry suddenly realised how close they were under the cloak. He wanted to take a step back, but that was impossible if he wanted to stay hidden from sight. Looking up he found Draco's eyes on him, a small crease between his brows as he studied Harry's face.

 

“What's wrong?” Draco asked, his breath ghosting over Harry's face.

 

“Nothing. I don't know.”

 

“You had the same look on your face this morning. You can tell me, you know.”

 

“It's nothing, really. Just me being dumb.”

 

“Wouldn't be a first.”

 

“No...no definitely not,” Harry smiled. “Eat your sandwiches, I promised ‘Mione I’d meet her at the library. You'll come over tonight, yes?”

 

“Yeah. Right after I get rid of Pansy.”

 

“Good. Eat now. I'll see you later.” Harry grinned one last time before he stepped away, taking the cloak with him.

 

Before he rounded the corner he heard a quiet “Thanks, Harry,” from behind him, and his heart nearly stopped. He almost turned around to go back, but decided that it could wait till tonight.

 

With bouncing steps, he walked quickly back to Hogwarts. At least he had something to look forward to while he combed the library with Hermione to find a solution for Draco's problem.

 

* * *

 

“I found a few things that could be interesting. After you told me what you found out this morning I eliminated some of the things I had found and added a few others to my list. So far I’ve found ten different curses that could be the base of the spell used on him. Whoever did this must have modified one of them somehow. I think I can already eliminate three others because it's simply impossible to modify them, but I'll do some research on it first. Also, I have two favourites I'd like to check out first. The problem is that I have to find out _what_ exactly they did and how they did it to find a countercurse for it. You don’t by chance know someone who's interested in a Healer career and also has good knowledge of the Dark Arts?”

 

“What the hell are these spells if you need someone like that?” Harry hadn’t even been in the library for five minutes and he already felt the beginning of a massive headache.

 

“Old magic, Dark magic, some of them even Blood magic. These curses are bad, Harry. I don't  even want to know what psychopath would use stuff like this. Especially in such an unobtrusive way. They did a lot of planning, that's for sure. The curses here attack the whole nervous system, and they're made to fulfil only one purpose: slowly kill the victim by switching off each and every nerve in their body. It takes months, sometimes years, but it always ends with death.”

 

Hermione looked back at the spreadsheet she had made, seemingly to gather her thoughts before she looked back at Harry with a small, hopeful smile. “However, the spell used on Draco really seems to be a modified version because it's only his sense of taste that is affected, and we know he can taste things if it's food _you_ made. Now we just have to figure out how this is connected. Is there anything you do different than the elves while cooking?”

 

“Well, I cook the Muggle way. But that can't be it because I brought him breakfast from the table, where I only buttered some toasts and cut him an apple, and he could taste that stuff as well.”

 

“Oh, was that the breakfast you made for him without noticing you had done it until you had it all packed?”

 

Harry nodded, but the second he did Hermione got that determined look on her face that told him she had had an idea.

 

Crossing five curses from her list at once she jumped up, “I have to go and check something. Thanks for the help! You can leave, that's all I need for now.”

 

He watched her go until she disappeared into the endless rows of shelves in the Restricted Section.

 

More than just a bit confused, he left the library to find Ron. It had been ages since they last played Quidditch, and Harry was in desperate need of a distraction. Quidditch had never disappointed in clearing his head before and he strongly hoped this time wouldn't be different

 

* * *

 

By the time their game ended, the sun was already setting. Their game had caught the attention of a lot of other students and slowly the field and teams had filled up and the small game between him, Dean, Seamus and Ron ended in a real Quidditch match between seventh and eighth years.

 

By the time he had caught the snitch, just before Ginny, even some of the Professors had joined the students in the stands and cheered along with them.

 

But when Harry flew his victory lap over the stands the only thing that caught his eye was the silver blonde hair he hadn't noticed till now.

 

When Harry passed the Slytherins he noticed a sly smile on Draco's face, who then winked at him before turning to follow Parkinson and Zabini back to Hogwarts.

 

Harry's already quick-beating heart beat even faster and he couldn't help but grin wider. Maybe he could tempt Draco into playing next time; he wouldn't say it out loud, but he had always liked to watch him fly, especially if it wasn't against the Gryffindors. Draco was a very good flyer who knew exactly what he was doing up there, and it was fascinating to watch.

 

After they took a quick shower in the locker rooms, he left the pitch with Ron and Ginny in tow. They came just in time for dinner, where Ginny said goodbye and went to sit down next to Luna, whereas Ron and Harry made their way towards the eighth year’s table at the end of the hall.

 

To their surprise they found Hermione sitting next to the Slytherins, with only two other free seats for them to take: one next to her and one—right next to Draco. When Ron saw this, he set off in a sprint and snatched the free spot next to Hermione, and Harry had no choice but to take the other free spot, his face already heating up with the thought of being watched by Hermione for the entire time.

 

When dinner was served he watched Draco load his plate with the bare minimum of bread and fruits out of the corner of his eye, and also when he started to pick at the grapes as if they would poison him.

 

Hermione quirked her brow and looked demandingly at Harry before she sighed and engaged Parkinson and the other Slytherins in a conversation, which left them all shocked enough to stare at her with open mouths, and Harry understood what she was trying to do.

 

Reaching out with his magic, he buttered the bread on Draco's plate before putting some cheese on it and then spelled the fruits into small pieces. He looked at Draco and told him to eat, with a small smile, before returning to his own plate, hoping he had done enough to make the food on Draco's plate a bit enjoyable.

 

When he heard a small, pleased sigh next to him, he knew it had been enough.

 

Harry had to remember to thank Hermione later, but judging by the scrutinizing looks she threw at them, he didn't need to. Something told him that this was part of her research and not because she was as worried about Draco as he was, but at least Draco could eat something now.

 

After dinner she shot straight up and towards the library, and Harry and Ron joined Ginny and Luna on their way to Gryffindor Tower; they wanted to play a few rounds of Exploding Snap before Luna had to go back to Ravenclaw for the night—and if they had to be honest, they missed their old common room enough that they took every chance they could get to visit.

 

* * *

 

Harry was nearly asleep when the quiet knock on his door startled him awake. Waving his hand lazily at the door, he heard the lock snap open before Draco stepped through and closed the door behind him. Harry nearly fell from his bed when he looked at him.

 

Draco was dressed in his pyjamas and his hair already looked messed up, as if he had just climbed out of his bed. Knowing him, he really did fall asleep while his friends were in his room and only woke up when they left to stumble over to Harry's room.

 

Something about this thought made Harry all warm and gushy inside and he grinned at Draco, who promptly made his way to Harry's bed.

 

“We have class tomorrow and they had the nerve to stay until the last minute.”

 

Draco's grumpy voice made Harry laugh before he locked the door again and called for Kreacher and the leftovers from yesterday.

 

After filling two plates, he sat on his bed and handed one of them to Draco, who instantly started to eat.

 

“I don't know how it's possible, but the sandwiches you brought me today were the best I ever had, even better than this lasagna.”

 

“You're strange, you know that right? It's normal food, everything they serve here tastes better.”

 

“Just take a compliment if you get one, I don't give them very often. I really wonder why I could die for the food you make, but can't taste anything else. It’s like it gets better everyday. But I'm sure your friend Granger will tell us soon what's going on, won't she?”

 

Harry didn't dare to look up and see the expression on Draco's face when he answered. “I know if anyone can help it's her. I had to ask her. And she won't tell anyone.”

 

“How much of it did you tell her?”

 

“Everything she needs to know to find something that might help you.”

 

“Why?”

 

At that Harry looked up, Draco was looking at him, plate forgotten, a worried and guarded expression on his face as if he feared Harry's answer.

 

“Because I want you to feel better. I want you to be able to eat your favourite chocolate again and not have to wait for me to bring you something to eat without your friends noticing me. I want you to have a normal school year for once, without relying on me to help you, because I know you don't like that. I want you to be able to eat at normal times, together with your friends, without Hermione distracting them so that I can meddle with your food so you can eat it at all.”

 

“Why do you hide this from my friends if you told yours what we are doing? Why did you offer your help when it's troubling you so much after only a few times that you have to pull others into my business? Don't you think I haven't already tried everything your brilliant friend can come up with before you found me in the tower? I wasn't the one who said that this is a secret, so it's not my fault your sneaking around is too troublesome for you!” By the time Draco finished he had already stood and walked towards the door.

 

Harry had no idea what was happening, all he could think was that something had gone horribly wrong and he had to fix it, but before he could do so, Draco had unlocked the door with a strong spell and was gone.

 

Staring at the empty door he wondered what he had said to cause that reaction.

 

“Was that Draco who just stormed off?”

 

Harry blinked at the figure that now stood where Draco had been only moments ago. None of this made any sense to him.

 

“Harry?”

 

The figure stepped closer, and he recognised Hermione.

 

“I think I fucked up. I don't even know what I did this time, but I really think I fucked up ‘Mione.”

 

“Oh.” She closed the door behind herself and came over to his bed. Putting Draco's half eaten plate to the side, she took a seat and looked at him. “Tell me what happened. I bet we can figure it out.”

 

So Harry did.

 

* * *

 

The next day Draco was neither in the Great Hall nor in any classes and Harry nearly lost his mind over it.

 

He tried to speak with Parkinson, but she just snapped at him and told him to fuck off and leave Draco alone.

 

After classes ended Harry ran to his room and pulled out the Marauders Map to find Draco in his room with Parkinson and Goyle.

 

He wondered where Zabini was, but didn’t care enough to find him somewhere, so he just stayed in bed, waiting for them to leave Draco’s room so he could go over there and see if he'd speak with him...but the Slytherins didn't leave for the night this time.

 

Sometime around midnight all three dots were in Draco's bed, and an hour later showed the same picture and Harry gave up.

 

He needed a plan.

 

Draco had refused to eat the breakfast he had made for him; he had asked Kreacher to take it to him, but the elf had returned with a sad expression and the message that Draco had ordered him to not bring any food Harry had made for him anymore.

 

Technically, he would normally have to listen to Harry, but since he worked for Hogwarts at the moment he also had to listen to Draco, which complicated things.

 

After a sleepless night he waited for Hermione in the common room early in the morning, he knew she'd be up before most of the others and he needed someone to listen to him or he'd go mad, or do something reckless and stupid.

 

To his surprise, she didn't come down before the others did and she wasn't at breakfast either; neither was Draco. Only Parkinson was there, who threw the occasional death glare at him before she left for her first class.

 

That was the moment Harry decided to skip Defence and search for Hermione instead. He couldn't take this for another day.

 

Leaving the Great Hall, Harry hid in one of the secret passageways and pulled the Marauder Map out of his bag to search for Hermione.

 

In hindsight, Harry could have spared himself the trouble—of course Hermione was in the library, but what _was_ surprising was the fact that she wasn't there alone.

 

He set off the second he spotted the second dot. He needed to know what was going on there.

 

* * *

 

Harry knew they were there, but nevertheless, it was still shocking to find Hermione and Zabini sitting close to each other at a small table, at least fifteen opened books around them.

 

They were whispering with each other while Hermione's quill scratched over the parchment in front of them.

 

When Harry stood in front of them, they didn't even look up, Zabini only pointed his wand at one of the spare chairs and shoved it back for Harry to take a seat.

 

Harry promptly did so and waited for them to finally look up and explain what the hell was happening here.

 

Ten minutes later they finally did.

 

“Thanks for waiting, Potter. Hermione told me you'd find us sooner rather than later. I have to say, I'm impressed, never thought you'd come here while you should be in class.” Zabini’s tone was playful while he spoke, and when he finally looked up he grinned, white teeth flashing at him. When he winked at him on top of it, Harry lost it.

 

“Hermione would you please tell what the fuck is happening here?”

 

“Oh! Draco told Blaise and the others what happened; after that, Blaise found me here last night and joined me. And I think we got it.”

 

“You—what?”

 

“We got it! The countercurse! It was Blaise who had the final information we needed. With the stuff I found out and his knowledge, we were able to finish the spell tonight.”

 

“That—that means?”

 

“That, my lovely and nice-to-look-at saviour, means that I'll drag my tired arse to Draco's room now, together with Hermione. And then we'll cast the thing over him and his moping arse to fix him. After that, I'll tell him that he's a stupid prick, and then I'll go to bed for the rest of the day.”

 

“Thank you,” Harry nearly burst into tears while he looked from Zabini to Hermione and back again. He still didn't know how to fix the misunderstanding he had with Draco, but at least he'd be healed soon and that was all that mattered right now. “Really, thank you. I want him to be okay again.”

 

“Yeah I know that by now Potter. You were a big part of the solution; let's say without you we wouldn't have known how to fix him. I'm sure Draco won't be amused when I show up with Hermione, that'll be the moment he'll figure out where I was and what I did last night, but he'll be fine.”

 

“We should go now, Blaise. If we want to see if it works we have to do it now, before lunch is served, and it'll take us some time to get it done,” Hermione said while picking up the parchment, and with a wave of her wand the books flew back towards the Restricted Area. Looking at Harry, she smiled softly, “He'll be fine. You'll see. See you later, Harry.”

 

With that, they both stood and left Harry alone in the library, not knowing what to do now.

 

Harry went to the Hospital Wing after a few minutes had passed, where he stared blankly ahead and told Madam Pomfrey that he wasn't feeling well and that he needed some Pepper-Up Potion and his bed for the rest of the day. And just like that, he didn’t need to worry about classes anymore that day and he was free to do just as he had told her—bury himself in his bed for the rest of the day, waiting for news as to whether or not Hermione and Zabini had succeeded.

 

But the news never came; not after lunch and not after dinner. He had checked the map once or twice but Hermione hadn't moved from her bedroom, same for Zabini, and Draco was nowhere to be found. Giving up, he put it away once again and sighed.

 

What if the countercurse didn't work and they'd made it worse? What if the reason he couldn't find Draco on the map was that he got sent to St. Mungo’s?

 

With a spinning head, he fell asleep, wondering what had happened.

 

* * *

 

A soft knock on his door woke him up. When Harry found his glasses he looked out of the window and saw nothing but darkness.

 

Wondering if Hermione had finally decided to tell him what happened, he stood up and opened the door—just to find himself face-to-face with Draco.

 

After a few moments passed without either of them moving, Draco cleared his throat and looked at the floor. “Can—can I come in?”

 

Harry didn't say anything, he only took a step back and held the door open for Draco to come in.

 

Once he had closed the door behind him he found Draco already sitting on his bed, still staring at the ground.

 

Sitting down with him, Harry leaned himself against the headboard and waited, he didn't dare say anything at all in case it made Draco leave again, and he didn't want that to happen.

 

After a long, stretched awkward silence between them Draco finally looked up for the first time since he had entered Harry's room to look directly at him.

 

“I'm sorry. Blaise told me I overreacted and that I misunderstood you, and in hindsight, I can tell he's right.”

 

“I think we both did our part with that.”

 

“Maybe.”

 

Another awkward silence was about to spread between them, and Harry couldn't take it any longer.

 

“Were Hermione and Zabini able to help you? Did it work? I didn't want to ask but I really, really need to know.”

 

“Actually, yes. I can taste food again. All of it.” A small smile spread over Draco's face and Harry's breath hitched. “I can tell you that I never want to go through that again—having Blaise and Granger pointing their wands at you while mumbling words you can’t understand for the better part of an hour is something that would have scared even Severus to death. We have to watch out that they don't get too close, or the world is doomed. I can't even begin to imagine what would happen if they throw their brains together more often.”

 

“We?” A small flame of hope spread in Harry's chest, but he didn't dare feed it, not until Draco confirmed it that he really meant _them_ , together.

 

“Did they tell you why I could taste your food, but nothing else?”

 

“No, they didn't.”

 

“The curse was old, very old, and whoever did it was obviously mad to even consider using something like that on someone. The curse in its original form was meant to kill the victim slowly, and most definitely very painfully. The only person who could actually break through the curse by tending to the victim’s needs was someone who loved the person, but the catch is that the cursed person had to love them back.”

 

Without Harry noticing, Draco had somehow managed to scoot closer while he spoke, only now that they were nearly nose-to-nose did Harry realise it. With shaking hands he touched Draco's face, tracing his jaw before burying it in his hair, waiting for him to finish his explanation.

 

“You see, this curse comes from a time when people were obsessed with fairy tales. So I have to ask you the most important question: do you love me, Harry? Do you love me enough to be my fairy tale ending? Because I think that is the reason I could taste your food, because you love me, and I love you too.”

 

Harry didn't hesitate to give Draco an answer this time. He pulled him close, kissing him like he had wanted to do for what felt like ages now. And if that wasn't answer enough, he would show it to him each and every day from this moment on.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! All comments are extremely welcome either here or on [Livejournal](https://hd-fan-fair.livejournal.com/152205.html).
> 
> If you liked it leave me some kudos and tell me what you liked most with a comment here!


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